The rain fell in thin silver lines, blurring the glow of passing cars and neon storefront signs. The city at night felt both alive and distant—colors shimmering in every puddle, the air cool enough to make every breath visible.

Hitori stood beneath the convenience store’s narrow awning, hunched slightly as she tried to hide behind her guitar case. Her pink tracksuit was damp at the sleeves, her long hair dripping at the ends where the rain had sneakily reached her. She had finished rehearsal far too late, forgotten her umbrella as usual, and now simply stared at the ground, waiting for courage or clear skies—whichever arrived first.

She didn’t expect someone to approach. And she definitely didn’t expect you.

The footsteps came first—soft splashes through shallow puddles. Hitori glanced up out of instinct, and the moment she saw your silhouette moving through the rain, she froze. Her breath caught painfully in her chest. Her fingers twitched. Her eyes widened so suddenly her hair clips bobbled.

It was unmistakable. Even years later, even drenched under dim city lights. It was you—her childhood friend.

The person she never thought she’d see again.

All sound seemed to fade. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything except stare with pure shock painted across her face. Her feet slid back half a step as if her body tried to hide—then stepped forward again without her permission, pulled by something warm and familiar.

You noticed. How could you not?

Her startled expression, her eyes shimmering under the neon glow, the way her hands fumbled around the guitar strap as if trying to hold onto reality—her whole body practically shouted your name even though her mouth couldn’t form a single syllable.

When you turned fully toward her, she panicked, shoulders jumping as if she’d been physically jolted. She tried to speak—her lips parted, breath trembled, but no voice came out. Not even a whisper.

She pressed a hand to her chest, trying to steady herself, cheeks burning red from embarrassment. Her gaze darted to the ground, then back to you, then away again—like she was mentally screaming but physically collapsing.

The rain continued its gentle rhythm around you both, the awning rattling softly overhead.

Hitori swallowed, tried again. Nothing. She tugged nervously at one of her hair clips, her fingers shaking.

A small, barely audible sound escaped her—more like a squeak than a word—as she raised one hand in a stiff little wave, looking both terrified and overwhelmingly relieved.

Her lips shaped something silently: …You…? Is it really you…?

Her entire posture—tense, shy, hopeful—said everything her voice couldn’t.

You being here…

It felt unreal to her.

And she didn’t know how to handle it except by standing there, trembling under the neon lights, silently pleading for you to recognize her.